storeeze

He is not here, but is risen!—Luke 24:6 My granddaughter Christina was visiting from college on Black Saturday, just in time for the annual Easter ritual—rack of lamb, red wine and The Last Temptation of Christ —until her mother got wind of it:  “THIS MOVIE PORTRAYS JESUS AS A HOMOSEXUAL!” I snatched the phone. “It’s the best Jesus movie.” “It's disrespectful. Bad on Easter. I raised Christina a certain way and I don't want her watching it.” “You haven’t seen it.” “I don’t care. Put her back on.” “Hi Mom, it's me again.” “Don't let gramps make fun of our religion.” We s k ipped the movie and went straight for the wine and lamb. Come Sunday, I figured Christina, a biracial young woman, would appreciate the African American congregation and a good honest sermon at the St. Paul Missionary Baptist Church. The building stood on stilts, ark-shaped like Noah's, ready for the Flood. We took it in, and walked up a steep ramp into the vestibule. A blast of Hands up for Jesus ...

Note: Sex is an earlier version of Primrose. “This is it?” asked Charline. “The map showed just beyond Fox Park,” replied Charlie. “Are you sure?” “Heard about it from a friend.” Unnoticed and unobserved in the swirling snow, Charlie and Charline stepped around a pile of rubbish in front of a snow-capped warehouse in Old Soulard. The heavy iron door clanged open to a large glowing cavern. Condom on Your Tongue boomed from the walls. Nude models in body paint roamed the floor, stirring the pot for the grand opening of Naughty Gras. Charlie gestured. "Now this is what I’ve been talking about.” “Why don’t we just leave?” “Yours?” “Oooooh no. We can stay here, I suppose. I have a treat for you,” taking off her coat and gloves. “Dang! I’m shocked by what you can fit in a Winslet!” “ You don’t like it?” “No, you look sexy. Can you breathe?” “Barely.” Four hundred revelers had flocked to the bacchanal, away from the veil of everyday life: sexy art and sensual costumes, a urinal crafted...